Gaily from thy mother-stalk Wert thou danced and wafted highSoon on this unshelter'd walk Flung to fade, to rot and die. O give me, from this heartless scene released, TO AN UNFORTUNATE WOMAN AT THE Or lies the purple evening on the bay THEATRE. MAIDEN, that with sullen brow Sittest behind those virgins gay, Like a scorch'd and mildew'd bough, Leafless 'mid the blooms of May! Him who lured thee and forsook, Oft I watch'd with angry gaze, Fearful saw his pleading look, Anxious heard his fervid phrase. Soft the glances of the youth, Lothing thy polluted lot, Hie thee, Maiden, hie thee hence! Seek thy weeping Mother's cot, With a wiser innocence. Thou hast known deceit and folly, Thou hast felt that vice is woe : With a musing melancholy Inly arm'd, go, Maiden! go. Mother sage of Self-dominion, Firm thy steps, O Melancholy! The strongest plume in wisdom's pinion Is the memory of past folly. Mute the sky-lark and forlorn, While she moults the firstling plumes, That had skimm'd the tender corn, Or the bean-field's odorous blooms: Soon with renovated wing Shall she dare a loftier flight, Upward to the day-star spring, And embathe in heavenly light. LINES COMPOSED IN A CONCERT-ROOM. These feel not Music's genuine power, nor deign Hark the deep buzz of Vanity and Hate! Scornful, yet envious, with self-torturing sneer My lady eyes some maid of humbler state, While the pert Captain, or the primmer Priest, Prattles accordant scandal in her ear. Of the calm glossy lake, O let me hide Unheard, unseen, behind the alder-trees For round their roots the fisher's boat is tied, On whose trim seat doth Edmund stretch at ease, And while the lazy boat sways to and fro, Breathes in his flute sad airs, so wild and slow, That his own cheek is wet with quiet tears. But O, dear Anne! when midnight wind careers, And the gust pelting on the out-house shed Makes the cock shrilly on the rain-storm crow, To hear thee sing some ballad full of woe, Ballad of shipwreck'd sailor floating dead, Whom his own true-love buried in the sands! Thee, gentle woman, for thy voice remeasures Whatever tones and melancholy pleasures The things of Nature utter; birds or trees, Or moan of ocean-gale in woedy caves, Or where the stiff grass 'mid the heath-plant waves, Murmur and music thin of sudden breeze. THE KEEPSAKE. THE tedded hay, the first fruits of the soil, And, more beloved than they, her auburn hair. In the cool morning twilight, early waked By her full bosom's joyous restlessness, Softly she rose, and lightly stole along, Down the slope coppice to the woodbine bower, Whose rich flowers, swinging in the morning breeze, Over their dim fast-moving shadows hung, Making a quiet image of disquiet In the smooth, scarcely moving river-pool. There, in that bower where first she own'd her love, And let me kiss my own warm tear of joy From off her glowing check, she sate and stretch'd * One of the names (and meriting to be the only one) of the Myosotis Scorpioides Palustris, a flower from six to twelvo inches high, with blue blossom and bright yellow eye. It has the same name over the whole Empire of Germany (Vergiss mein nicht) and, we believe, in Denmark and Sweden The silk upon the frame, and work'd her name Believe me, while in bed you lay, You made us grow devouter! In the place where you were going; This World has angels all too few, And Heaven is overflowing! TO A LADY. WITH FALCONER'S "SHIPWRECK." AH! not by Cam or Isis, famous streams, In arched groves, the youthful poet's choice; Nor while half-listening, mid delicious dreams, To harp and song from lady's hand and voice; Nor yet while gazing in subliner mood On cliff, or cataract, in Alpine dell; Nor in dim cave with bladdery sea-weed strew'd, Framing wild fancies to the ocean's swell; Our sea-bard sang this song! which still he sings, And sings for thee, sweet friend! Hark, Pity, hark! Now mounts, now totters on the Tempest's wings, Now groans, and shivers, the replunging Bark! Cling to the shrouds!" In vain! The breakers SOMETHING CHILDISH, BUT VERY NATURAL WRITTEN IN GERMANY. IF I had but two little wings, But in my sleep to you I fly : I'm always with you in my sleep! Sleep stays not, though a monarch bids: HOME-SICK. WRITTEN IN GERMANY. "TIS sweet to him, who all the week Sincere, affectionate, and gay, Who having long been doom'd to roam, This feel I hourly more and more: There's Healing only in thy wings, Thou Breeze that playest on Albion's shore! But the Lark is so brimful of gladness and love, Its own sweet self-a love of Thee That seems, yet cannot greater be! THE VISIONARY HOPE. SAD lot, to have no Hope! Though lowly kneeling Though obscure pangs made curses of his dreams, That Hope, which was his inward bliss and boast, Which waned and died, yet ever near him stood, Though changed in nature, wander where he wouldFor Love's Despair is but Hope's pining Ghost! For this one Hope he makes his hourly moan, He wishes and can wish for this alone! Pierced, as with light from Heaven, before its gleams (So the love-stricken visionary deems) Disease would vanish, like a summer shower, Whose dews fling sunshine from the noon-tide bower! Or let it stay! yet this one Hope should give Such strength that he would bless his pains and live. RECOLLECTIONS OF LOVE. How warm this woodland wild Recess! Eight springs have flown, since last I lay No voice as yet had made the air Be music with your name; yet why That asking look? that yearning sigh? That sense of promise every where? Beloved! flew your spirit by? As when a mother doth explore The rose-mark on her long-lost child I met, I loved you, maiden mild! As whom I long had loved beforeSo deeply, had I been beguiled. You stood before me like a thought, Has not, since then, Love's prompture deep, THE HAPPY HUSBAND. A FRAGMENT. OFT, oft methinks, the while with Thee I breathe, as from the heart, thy dear And dedicated name, I hear A promise and a mystery, A pledge of more than passing life, Yea, in that very name of Wife! A pulse of love, that ne'er can sleep! A feeling that upbraids the heart With happiness beyond desert, That gladness half requests to weep! Nor bless I not the keener sense And unalarming turbulence Of transient joys, that ask no sting, From jealous fears, or coy denying; Wheel out their giddy moment, then A more precipitated vein Of notes, that eddy in the flow Of smoothest song, they come, they go, And leave the sweeter under-strain ON REVISITING THE SEA-SHORE, AFTER LONG ABSENCE, UNDER STRONG MEDICAL RECOMMENDATION NOT TO BATHE. God be with thee, gladsome Ocean! How gladly greet I thee once more! Ships and waves, and ceaseless motion, And men rejoicing on thy shore. Dissuading spake the mild Physician, "Those briny waves for thee are Death!" But my soul fulfill'd her mission, And lo! I breathe untroubled breath! Fashion's pining sons and daughters, That seek the crowd they seem to fly, Trembling they approach thy waters; And what cares Nature, if they die? Me a thousand hopes and pleasures, Dreams (the soul herself forsaking), Tearful raptures, boyish mirth; Silent adorations, making A blessed shadow of this Earth! O ye hopes, that stir within me, Health comes with you from above! God is with me, God is in me! I cannot die, if Life be Love. THE COMPOSITION OF A KISS. CUPID, if storying legends* tell aright, On thy bald awful head, O sovran Blanc! O dread and silent Mount! I gazed upon thee, Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody, So sweet, we know not we are listening to it, Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my Thought, Yea with my Life and Life's own secret Joy: Till the dilating Soul, enrapt, transfused, Into the mighty vision passing-there As in her natural form, swell'd vast to Heaven! Awake, my soul! not only passive praise Sweet sounds transpired, as when th'enamour'd dove Thou owest! not alone these swelling tears, Pours the soft murm'ring of responsive love. III. MEDITATIVE POEMS, IN BLANK VERSE. Yea, he deserves to find himself deceived, Schiller. Mute thanks and secret ecstasy! Awake, Thou first and chief, sole Sovereign of the Vale! O struggling with the darkness all the night, And visited all night by troops of stars, Or when they climb the sky or when they sink: Companion of the Morning-Star at dawn, Thyself earth's rosy star, and of the dawn Co-herald: wake, O wake, and utter praise' Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in earth? Who fill'd thy countenance with rosy light? Who made thee Parent of perpetual streams? And you, ye five wild torrents fiercely glad! HYMN BEFORE SUN-RISE, IN THE VALE Who gave you your invulnerable life, OF CHAMOUNY. Besides the Rivers Arve and Arveiron, which have their sources in the foot of Mont Blanc, five conspicuous torrents rush down its sides, and within a few paces of the Glaciers. the Gentiana Major grows in immense numbers, with its "flowers of loveliest blue." HAST thou a charm to stay the Morning-Star *Effinxit quondam blandum meditata laborem Carm. Quod. Vol. II. Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy Ye Ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost' Thou too, hoar Mount! with thy sky-pointing peaks, Slow travelling with dim eyes suffused with tears, Rise like a cloud of incense, from the earth! LINES ON OBSERVING A BLOSSOM ON THE FIRST OF SWEET Flower! that peeping from thy russet stem This dark, frieze-coated, hoarse, teeth-chattering Hath borrow'd Zephyr's voice, and gazed upon thee WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM AT ELBINGERODE, IN THE An Amaranth, which earth scarce seem'd to own, HARTZ FOREST. I STOOD On Brocken's* sovran height, and saw By the blue distance. Heavily my way Of our adored Country! O thou Queen, Thou delegated Deity of Earth, O dear, dear England! how my longing eye Till Disappointment came, and pelting wrong THE EOLIAN HARP. COMPOSED AT CLEVEDON, SOMERSETSHIRE. My pensive Sara! thy soft cheek reclined Myrtle, (Meet emblems they of Innocence and Love!) The stilly murmur of the distant Sea *The highest mountain in the Hartz, and indeed in North Tells us of Silence. Germany. From some high eminence on goodly vales, Where my tired mind might rest, and call it home. And that simplest Lute, Placed length-ways in the clasping casement, hark Chatterton. |